Star Wars: Treason
by Rhysati Ynr
Summary: Order 66 was hard hitting on the Jedi, that's for certain, but did anyone consider what effect it had on the clones? Join the boys of Vod squadron as they struggle with loyalties and orders as they are told to join in with operation Knightfall...
1. Chapter 1

Star Wars:

Treason

Written by Rachel E Hayler

A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away...

This mission was so simple, yet why did it feel so complicated? RC-4376 rolled his eyes and then blinked them twice in rapid succession. His HUD display darkened for a second, and then a confirming "ping" showed that the current wind speed had been marked. Sure was windy up here. Sighing in boredom, 4376 or Cuyan forced himself to return the electrobinoculars that were sitting idly in his gauntleted hands. Yes, complicated was the _only_ way to describe it.

He was spying on the Jedi, for osiks sake!

Well, that wasn't the _official_ word for it, but everyone was aware of military euphemism nowadays. He was here to check the "security protocol" of the Jedi Temple. According to the mission briefing, there were rumours stirring that the CIS were planning a strike on home turf, a last ditch attempt to bring the Republic to its knees. He could understand the thinking that might have gone into the attack, but it was _very_ foolhardy. If the Republic could be stripped down layer by layer, then it would show that the Jedi were the closest people to protect the Galactic Senate. And that wasn't just in geographical terms. Take the Jedi out of the equation and you might have a run at taking over the entire government. Not that the Seperatists hadn't tried this already, of course.

Just days ago, they had tried to capture the Chancellor. Clearly something within Dooku's brain had shut off his ability to _think_. How could one as seemingly intelligent and military-minded as Dooku make a kind of mistake like that? Well, General Grievous it seemed, as he had accepted to lead the attack. Whatever the reason, the Seperatist leader had paid heavily for his costly error: with his life. And who had been the one to kill him? Skywalker, the hero with no fear. Now he was being heralded as the single hero of the Republic, as if he had been the only man present at the Battle of Coruscant. Cuyan had known a great deal of the marines who had helped him and Kenobi rescue the Chancellor, and many of them hadn't returned. Didn't their bravery deserve a mention too? Apparently not, they had just become statistics in an unfair war like so many others before them.

That was why none of these rumours made much sense! Why would the Seperatists risk what little remained of their fleet against the impenetrable defenses of Coruscant? More over, why pick the Jedi who could clearly take care of their own? Either the Seperatist leadership had crumbled since the death of Dooku, or this was just some grand ruse that he couldn't begin to comprehend.

"Suc'uy, Cuy'ika?" Came a call over his helmet com-link that barely awoke him from his thoughts. "You awake, ner vod?"

Cuyan shook his head and found that a frown crept up onto his face as he answered, "Yeah, why?" 

"Just that you've been looking in the same spot now for the past three minutes," the voice explained, and he recognised it to be that of RC-6372 or Adenn. "Have you become as depressed as our other ner vode?"

Cuyan took note of the fact that Adenn was speaking to him over an open 'link, one that all of the clones in the squad could drop into. Oh, wayii, that di'kut was _really_ looking for a smack in the face. Unfortunately, his analysis of the moods of their other squad mates was one hundred percent correct. Their other brothers, RC-1139 and RC-7283 - weren't their usual selves this morning. 7283, Aran, had been disturbed and snappy for the past few days. And as for 1139, Orar, he was just...well...Orar: grumpy, irritable and pessimistic.

"Cut it out, Ad'ika," Aran interjected into the conversation, but his voice sounded like he had no bite to back up his demand. What was even worse was that he sounded desperate and; upset, like he wanted them to drop the subject so that he wouldn't have to be reminded of it. What the fierfek was going on with him? "I'm fine."

"Speaking frankly, _Sir_, that's a load of osik. Nayc, you aren't alright," Adenn's reply sounded resentful and more than a little hurt. "You're shutting us out. There's something that you aren't telling us, so what's going on?"

The Vod leader exhaled loudly and hesitated, shocking Cuyan more than he thought it would. Was he trying to think of an excuse, or debating whether to tell his brothers to back off? No, he couldn't lay more lies upon them. He would betray the squad trust in doing so and crack it. It had never been fractured before, but recently it was becoming more and more strained.

"I..." He paused, as if selecting his words carefully. Was the thing that was bothering him so terrible that he couldn't bring himself to speak the words? "Well, I -"

"Well nothing," a new voice interrupted what he was saying and cut him off. "We've got a mission to complete. That comes first, not gossip. Get back to it."

Wayii! Orar was in a _really_ bad mood. It would normally have been Adenn who tossed back a rebuke at such rudeness, but an irritable Cuyan beat him to it, "Usenye and calm down, di'kut! Nothing is more important than your brothers. Learn some respect or I'll -"

"You'll do _nothing_." Aran's voice was more like his usual tone as he stopped Cuyan's threat dead. "Just carry on with the observations. I'll tell you later, I _promise_."

The fact that the Vod leader had placed emphasis on the word "promise" did little to calm Cuyan's sudden annoyance. How could Orar get away with talking to them all like that? His attitude towards the rest of them had been getting progressively worse over the duration of the war. Maybe it was the pressure of battle? He had no idea, but he did know that he - and Adenn - wouldn't tolerate it for much longer. After all, it would seem that the only people they could trust were their other brothers, and a select few, so turning against them was idiotic.

Biting back any further comments by actually clamping his teeth down on his bottom lip, he blinked once to cut himself off from the shared 'link. He supposed that this little act would be seen as childish, but at that moment he just couldn't bring himself to hear their voices. He forced himself to take a deep breath and then made another note of the wind direction. As far as he could see, despite the Temple's towering height, it was an absolutely nasty building to try and defend from a military perspective.

The fact that the spire got steadily thinner and thinner until it reached the crown of the Jedi Council chamber on top just screamed bad design. In theory, the halls would have to get narrower and narrower as it sprouted upwards. A terribly cramped space if you were surrounded by potential aruetti - enemies. That would also show that there was little room to escape if you needed to retreat. Even Jedi weren't invincible. And then, the Council chamber itself was a death trap. As far as he could tell, apart from jumping off of the roof of the room, there were no other exits. You had one way in and one way out.

He jotted all these down on his datapad that he had yanked off of his utility belt and once again made a note of the new wind speed. Fortunately it was breezy enough up at this towering height to be able to prevent troops from rappelling down onto the Council chambers roof. For any regular infantry that would have been suicidal, but that was just the kind of thing that Republic Commandoes such as himself had been trained to do. He decided to add detail of how a droid would probably struggle with this, but real life troops may stand more of a chance of pulling off something like that.

He raised his electrobinoculars once again, this time looking for possible sniper posts and sentry hideouts. Non-military looking this building may be, but looking at all of the smooth surfaces and scarce few angles made him feel; pleased. It was meant for aesthetic purposes only, he presumed, although he had heard Jedi saying before that the Temple's design helped to aid meditation, something about it being able to channel the Force. A beeping noise suddenly interrupted him and he looked up to see that Adenn wanted to open up a private 'link to him. Grudgingly he answered the call, but didn't stop making notes on his datapad, "Yes, Ad'ika?"

"Do you feel as awkward about this as I do?" His brother asked him bluntly.

That caught him off guard. A question like that had a million possible answers, and right at that moment he thought that he could think of as many as that. A few he really hoped weren't the ones that his brother was looking for. He decided to stall the conversation in hopes that his brother would tire and give up on him, and also gain some more detail on what he wanted to know. "Care to elaborate on that, ner vod? If this is about Aran or Orar..."

"No, not those di'kute," Adenn's voice sounded angry. "The mission. The "security protocol". We're basically spying on the Jedi. I swear that's treason, and it's making me have _very_ bad feelings about this whole thing."

The whole thing? It was very unusual that Adenn would be vague about something, let alone something when he was expressing his feelings. His words were rude and...poetic when he did that. Cuyan felt a frown of confusion and curiosity slip onto his expression as he tried to concoct a viable answer, "Yeah, this does bother me. None of the "rumours" that were described in the briefing make any sense to me. But there's nothing that we can do about it, Ad'ika. It's just a mission."

"_Just a mission_?" Adenn reiterated, his voice rising with his temper. He must have noticed because he dropped the tone of his voice back down to a more acceptable, calmer level. "Ner vod, you just said that this bothers you, stop contradicting yourself! We have to hand all this data back to Republic Intelligence, to some random lackey who will pass it on and on and on. Fierfek knows how many people will read it before it lands in the Chancellor's groping hands. Aren't you concerned that someone could intercept it and leak it out? We could be compromising the Jedi without them being aware of it."

Cuyan's voice filled with a little fire at his brother's words. "Ad'ika, you're the one that's contradicting yourself. Your lady friend is a member of the RI. By suggesting that they are corrupt it's as good as saying that you don't trust her."

As soon as the words had left his mouth, he instantly regretted them. That had been low, far lower than he thought he could stoop. Over the course of the war, Adenn had become very close to Republic Intelligence officer, Raikia Rayth. For roughly two years of that, they had been romantically involved with one another. Their relationship wasn't "illegal" in any sense of the word, but there were some who frowned upon fraternising with clones. And so, they had decided to keep their blossoming love a secret. They had agreed that the main reason behind this was due to the nature of their careers, such sensitive information could be used as leverage against them if they found themselves in a dangerous situation. However, Adenn had confided other feelings in his brothers. He was concerned that she felt ashamed of dating a clone; and whether she was with him out of pity, due to his short life span. They had all told him not to be such a di'kut, but it clearly hadn't helped to quell his doubts.

And now the silence that followed showed how Cuyan's malicious words had brought all of those feelings flooding back.

"Ad'ika, I'm sorry," he apologised, the tone of his voice showing his deep regret. "I know that Rais is trustworthy. She's mandokarla."

Mandokarla: of Mandalorian spirit. The fiery little intelligence agent had certainly proved that with her unshakeable loyalty to not only Adenn, but the entire squad. She had become an informal fifth member of their team, and had been officially named their executive officer. Well, not officially by _Republic standards_, but that was the way that she helped them the most and now had a title for those efforts. She was their eyes and ears for accurate Intel, and so far she had failed to disappoint.

"'Lek, Cuy'ika, I know you didn't." Now Adenn sounded even more grumpy and withdrawn than his brothers. "I know."

A round of static penetrated his ears before he had a chance to babble more excuses and he knew that Adenn had dropped out of the private 'link.

"Ok, ner vode," Aran's voice announced over the com-link soon after, connecting them all instantly to an open 'link once again. "We've got enough data. Let's get this back to RI HQ."

Cuyan sighed and put all of his equipment away and then hopped over the railing of the balcony that he had been using as an observation post. He then started the long climb back down to the residential landing platform that their speeder was waiting on.

It was going to be an awkward journey back to the HQ, he presumed.


	2. Chapter 2: In the Dark

Chapter 2: In the Dark

Cuyan's presumption of an awkward trip back to the headquarters had been incorrect: it had been _worse_ than that. Not a single word had been spoken the whole way there. Even now as they were sat waiting to be admitted into a meeting with a Republic Intelligence agent, none of them were speaking. It was as if the petty arguments that had occurred earlier on had opened up a gulf that had been lying dormant until now. Did they really have issues with each other that they had kept hidden all this time?

He looked up from the holozine that he was reading and rolled his eyes a few times to end up with a display on his HUD that showed the views from the cameras in his brothers' helmets. Firstly, he concentrated on Adenn's icon. The young soldier was staring down at a piece of flimsi that had barely intelligible writing on it. Ah, so he was writing a letter to Raikia. He never wrote messages to her using a datapad and a stylus, apparently she preferred the "personal" touch if he wanted to contact her. As far as he could tell, his brother was ranting about their current situation.

Their current situation was something that they never mentioned now-a-days, it was just too depressing to discuss. They hadn't had a days worth of leave since the start of the war. That was unheard of amongst Republic Commandoes, although it wasn't uncommon within the regular clone troopers. Time and time again they had heard other squads talking about the time they had enjoyed back on Coruscant, sampling a life style that was so alien to them. Some had been thrilled by it, whereas others had been terrified by the experience and longed to be back doing what they knew best. But the Vod squadron had no opinion on the subject either way. Even after the loss of their brother, RC-1548 or Besbe, they had been back in action the next day. They had received messages time and time again from their training sergeant, Mandalorian mercenary Kal Skirata, that he would get them some leave; but the Chancellor kept demanding more and more time out of them. It sucked no matter what way they looked at it, but that wasn't their only problem.

Fortunately, Adenn hadn't written any spiteful comments about his brothers, except a few complaining about Orar's attitude towards them recently. Well, that was something that had been bothering them all not just him, and it wasn't surprising that he was venting his anger into another outlet - namely Raikia - apart from his other squad mates. However, towards the end of the letter that he was checking over, a concluding sentence caught Cuyan's eye. It read:

_I really miss you - but soon we can be together permanently - like I promised._

Like he promised? Oh boy, not Adenn too. What secrets was he hiding from them all? There had been a time when the squad would have told each other everything, but there seemed to be less chance of that happening as the days passed. What the blazes had he sworn to Rais? That he would have her become a full member of the squad? Retire when the war was over and run away with her? Marry her and have a family with her in the near future? Cuyan felt a shudder ripple down his spine and it caused him to fidget around uncomfortably in his chair. Things like that were totally confusing to him. How could a clone have a normal life? No way, that was out of the question as far as he was concerned. He couldn't imagine himself with a wife, children and a regular job. It wasn't because he didn't want those things - oh no, every human being wanted commitment on some level - but it was due to the fact that he didn't know _how_ he could have one. Sergeant Kal's lessons hadn't extended that far.

Shaking his head to rid himself of his thoughts, he looked away from Adenn's icon and focused on Aran's. He instantly bypassed Orar's out of an unresolved anger towards him. Before his eyes, a non-moving, white sheen took up the whole of the icon. It took a couple of seconds before he realised that the camera in the Vod leader's helmet was looking down at the floor. That should have only been a little unusual, but the view showed that he was completely unmoving, not even the slight bobbing as his brother breathed. Frowning a little, he moved his eyes to switch back to a view of just his own POV, and was about to turn his attention back to his holozine when a voice interrupted him,

"You could have asked me what I was doing, Cuy. No need to spy on me."

Cuyan cursed under his breath. His brother had known that he was watching him. He must have put his helmet back on. Confused as to why he had taken it off in the first place, he fumbled with a reply, "I'm sorry, Sir. I wasn't -"

"Want to know what's going on, ner vod?" Aran asked quickly and bluntly, cutting him off. A blast of white noise throttled his ears a moment later, and he realised that he was being connected to an open 'link with all of the squad.

"'Lek, ner vod, I do want to know," Cuyan answered him, mainly so that the others would know why they had been summoned onto the com. "Tell us what's bothering you."

"Firstly, I need to apologise to you." Aran's voice was full of tension, as if he was dreading their reaction to his words. He carried on despite of this, speaking much more slowly and carefully. "We've just been so busy and I couldn't find the right time to -"

"_Sir_, Republic Intelligence could be calling us in at any minute now," Adenn interjected, cutting him off and sounding more than a little annoyed. "Just get to the point, ner vod."

"Alright; alright, udessii. I received a message from Captain Ordo about a year and a half ago. He said that it was to be kept on the quiet, but passed on to as many brothers as I could find. I haven't done that request yet, but he recommended that I start with you lot, and then branch out. I wanted to tell you as soon as I had heard, but he sounded so serious that I thought I should wait until we could discuss this properly." He paused, and then forced himself to laugh. "Now seems as good a time as ever, seeing as the RI take forever to fuss over things.

Kal'buir has been doing a lot of personal errands in the past year or so, and although he wouldn't go into too much detail on how this came about, he said that he has set up a trust fund for brothers that want to have a normal life outside of the GAR."

"And he told you this, a year and a half ago?" Adenn asked with a fire in his voice that made Cuyan jump. "You've kept this secret all this time? How dare you? We had a right to know!"

"I'm sorry, I couldn't find the right time. And Captain Ordo was really serious about this not reaching other peoples' ears." Aran's sigh of exasperation was very audible, and it sounded like he knew this had been coming.

"Why are you so bothered about this, Ad'ika? It's not a big deal. It's nice of Kal'buir, sure, but we know that our place is here: in the GAR," Orar added into the conversation. He sounded extremely naïve as he spoke.

An awkward silence fell over the com-link. Cuyan could almost sense the confusion, and eventually the realisation that must have crossed his brother's face as the collective quiet continued. A few moments passed, and then Orar spoke once again, "Don't tell me you're all considering what Kal'buir's suggesting..?"

The boys had no time to answer him as the doors that they had been waiting outside of slowly glided open. A female Rodian with bright red, pursed lips stood in the doorway, her scaly green arms folded across her chest. Apparently she did not approve of the lax positions that the clone commandoes were adopting. Neither did they. They all leapt up to their feet, Cuyan's holozine plopping to the floor with a slight clatter. Had they been more prepared for her sudden appearance, they wouldn't have looked so sloppy. What a great first impression to make for their meeting with a Republic Intelligence official.

"General Minor will see you now," the Rodian muttered and turned to walk down the corridor away from them.

"Won't we be meeting with Master Zey...?" Aran asked her, pausing as she turned back around to look at him in irritation. Cuyan could barely hold back a laugh as the Vod leader suddenly remembered that she was a female and ended with, "...Ma'am?"

The stout woman puckered up her lips into what could have been the Rodian's version of a snarl, but it just made her look all the more comical. Maybe even...constipated. The squad had often been reprimanded for being straight to the point about things, but Aran was always blunt with people when he needed to know things. It would have made more sense if they were going to report to a Jedi about matters that concerned the Jedi Temple. Her reply was sharp and short, matching his abrupt question with an equally frank answer, "The General is busy with more pressing matters. Now make your report, Clone."

The name may have been degrading in most contexts, but it just sounded all the more amusing coming from the distractingly unattractive woman. She stormed off down the corridor, leaving Aran to make an uncharacteristic, rude gesture at her retreating back. "Well, lads, you heard the wo - whatever it was. Let's move."

Cuyan lurked behind as they all entered the office ahead of him. He paused, not knowing whether he should retrieve his dropped holozine or not. A sharp tug on his arm from Orar made up his mind for him and he stumbled after them a second later. Upon entering the room, he found himself to be pleasantly surprised by the lack of grandeur that was on display. There were no trophies or other signs of opulence that normally decorated the office of a high ranking, Republic official. A few holographs lined the walls in strategically placed positions, creating a mosaic effect. Other than that, then main thing that dominated the floor space before them was a large, wooden desk; piled high with neatly stacked holodiscs. It took Cuyan by surprise to think that each disc represented a mission just like theirs: and that in turn involved more people than he cared to think about. And there were hundreds of discs! That totalled to possibly loads of people working for the ideals of one government.

And that got him thinking. If they did leave the army after the war was finished, how much of an impact would their retirement have on the Republic? Not much of one, he would have guessed, but there were so few Republic Commandoes around nowadays. They were needed for all sorts of things: intelligence, assassinations, infantry work. They were like mini ARC-Troopers, just with better manners and people skills. So maybe there would be one day. And maybe he and his brothers would receive the recognition that they so deserved if they left the army? But why should it have to take such a dramatic act to achieve something so...trivial? He didn't need to be lorded as a hero - Mandalorians didn't believe in them - but a little admiration of his work and skills would help to boost his waning morale.

"I am sorry for the delay," a voice apologised, drawing his attention up to the man that was sat at the desk in front of them. I presume that you are...Vod squadron?"

Oh dear, bad start. The man pronounced the word as "Vod", clearly showing his ignorance of the culture that had formed amongst parts of the clone army. Aran gave him a stiff salute, and he could tell that the Vod leader wanted to correct him to the real pronunciation of "vohd". "Yes, Sir. We have the data concerning the_ alleged_ attack on the Jedi Temple."

General Minor looked up, astonishment playing through his amber-brown eyes as he locked onto Aran's T-slit in his white buy'ce. Due to the rare sight of Republic Commandoes around the Galactic city, the boys had adopted white, regular meat can armour for their current mission. The Vod squad leader was really playing with fire when he emphasised the word "alleged". It was a politician's trick, something akin to what the Chancellor might use in a difficult negotiation. What Cuyan couldn't understand, however, was why Aran had done it. Was it a ploy to try and get the General to admit that there was a real threat against the Jedi Temple? Or was he simply showing that he believed the mission had been a waste of their time and skills? Well, whatever it was, the Republic Intelligence official had certainly taken note of the attempt. Now it was just a question of whether he was going to humour him, or reprimand him for speaking in such a way to a higher ranking official. Cuyan couldn't stop a feeling inside of him that suggested Aran was bordering on insubordination for some deeper reasons that just the pointlessness of their mission.

He didn't know whether the General thought that too, but the answer that he gave left little to the imagination. How had Aran even contemplated the thought of getting information out of someone from Republic Intelligence? "Yes, quite. May I see the data that you have collected?"

Aran handed over the data-chip full of all of their collated data without hesitation. He was still playing some kind of game with the General; perhaps it was a fight for who had control over the conversation: he didn't know. And all it took was a switch from subtle prompts to being the obedient clone to do this. It was a side of their leader that Cuyan had never seen before, and being honest: it scared him. "Yes'sir!"

General Minor accepted the 'chip with a nod and then loaded the data into a datapad on his desk. The boys were forced to stand patiently as they waited for the RI officer to read through their findings. Seeing as he hadn't dismissed them immediately, Cuyan presumed that he wanted more of their opinions on what they had observed. That was strange in itself, considering the fact that no one ever wanted to consult with them on matters of a high importance. Normally they were just the pawns in a much larger game, the ones who carried out the wishes of those without so much as blinking.

The RI officer read the data for about six minutes - Cuyan got bored and timed it - then he looked up and scanned over each of them in turn. He must have been reading their armour tallies, to see who was who. He'd get confused by his armour, then. Cuyan had lost his armour after his near death at Geonosis, and so he had started to wear the armour of their lost brother - RC-1548 or "Besbe". To honour his memory, he had also left the armour tally from Besbe's armour on it whilst adding his own one above it. Even now when they were wearing regular trooper armour, he had removed both tallies from his usual armour and placed it upon the one that he had borrowed for now. After a few minutes of deliberation, the Republic official settled his gaze on him.

"RC-4376, you noted that there was only one exit in and out of the Jedi Council chamber. Are you certain of this?" Minor asked him, resting his hands on the table top in front of him. They turned a luminous blue in colour as the light from the holoprojector bathed them in an eerie glow.

Cuyan nodded his head, but his helmet just remained in one position. Cursing his beskar'gam's design a little, he activated his bucket's microphone and spoke out loud to the General, "I wasn't certain, Sir, because I couldn't get a clear view from my observation post. It was mainly a presumption..." He paused, not knowing if he should add any more. "...Sir."

General Minor looked a little; exasperated. Clearly that wasn't the answer that he had been looking for. "I need you to be certain, Trooper. This data could be the make or break of the war."

And without even realising it, Cuyan had just received the information that Aran had been fishing around for at the start of the mission. The make or break of the war? This was sounding less and less hypothetical with each passing moment. What would happen if there _really_ was a threat towards the safety of the Jedi? "I'm sorry, Sir. I can't be any more certain unless we go back out for another op."

It took a moment for the RI officer to understand the military slang that had been used, and then a few more after that before he spoke again. Maybe he had been debating whether to do just that: send them back out again. Eventually, he made his mind up. "Very well, you are dismissed, but the Chancellor wants to see you."

"_Well I don't want to see him_," Adenn hissed over their private com-link, inaudible to anyone but the rest of the squad.

"The Chancellor?" Aran asked out loud, unable to mask his surprise.

"Yes, there is a speeder waiting for you at the main entrance," General Minor explained dismissively. He wasn't at all bemused by the strange request, it seemed. "Best not keep him waiting."

They all saluted him as one and then marched out of the room in a single filed line. They held a cautious silence until they were away from the office, and then Adenn was the first one to break it, "What do you think he wants?" 

"I have no idea," Aran replied honestly as they arrived at the main entrance and spotted their transport. "But there's only one way to find out."

Yes, one way indeed. It seemed like today was going to be a day where they were going to be kept in the dark about lots of things. They boarded their allocated speeder and shot off for a meeting with a man who rarely had time for social matters...


	3. Chapter 3: By Order of the Chancellor

Chapter 3: By Order of the Chancellor

The Senate Rotunda was the true representation of egocentrism in the Republic. Every item that lined the halls of the building must have cost around a year's wages of the average Republic citizen each, maybe even more than that. Shouldn't money of that magnitude be spent on more important things like: healthcare, education or even to fund the war? It suddenly angered him to think that that amount of credits was being wasted on aesthetic items that probably no one paid attention to bar tourists. He didn't know much about finances, but he knew that it was the taxes that civvies paid that funded his equipment. He was filled with a new respect for the ordinary folk at that point. They may be _aruetiise _sometimes, but they provided him and his brothers with the means to survive out on the field.

As they strode down the corridor towards the Chancellor's office, they got more than a few stares. Some were of fright, some of curiosity, but most were of disgust. What were regular infantry doing marching through their halls and mingling with the upper class folk? Cuyan hadn't really expected anything else from the hutuune, he supposed. They would never feel anything but contempt for the beings that weren't _truly human_, even though they were the ones that protected their _shebse _every day.

But now that they were dressed in their regular, mark 3 Katarn armour, they really did look a lot more imposing than regular clones. Whereas most clone armour was a clean, dazzling white or even a dark, mysterious black; the Vod squad had been issued with smoky grey armour. Not only that, they had spent a great deal of time individually decorating their rig, a little like the colours that were reflected on the plates of Delta squadron. Cuyan had often thought of it as their open sign of rebellion and urge to be seen as different from the others as much as it was used to scare the _osik_ out of potential enemies. Right at this moment, they _were_ in enemy territory, he supposed. After all, it was the politicians - and the Chancellor - who decided what, was going to be their next, life endangering mission. He sighed and barely resisted the urge to wave patronisingly at a passing bureaucrat. However, he expected that the daunting design of his _beskar'gam_ would have made the gesture scary, instead of it's intended meaning of being irritating.

Cuyan's armour was an absolute riot of colour - much like that of proper Mandalorian kit. His backplate and chestplate were their usual, smoky grey colour, but a blazing red Mythosaur skull dominated the back one. It had taken ages to paint it on there. Just near his left shoulder pauldron, he had also taken the time to paint the word "Bes'ika" in forest green paint. It was another little token to show that this had been his brother's armour before his. His helmet was also dull in colour, but he had outlined the black, T-shaped visor on it with a bold, blue streak: echoing the helmet style of Jango Fett. His shoulder pauldrons, gauntlets and leg plates were all white, but the high-lighted with chipped, sky blue paint. These parts had been taken from a friend of his only a few days ago, a clone marine that had died during the Battle of Coruscant. Hardly any of the armour matched, but he didn't care. It was personal to him, and made him the most memorable part of the squad.

Aran's was much more understated, simple shades of white and black that complemented the grey base colour and the black, T-shaped visor of his _buy'ce_. His nicely matching colour scheme did absolute wonders for when they had to interrogate people. Due to the boldness of Cuyan's _beskar'_, everyone presumed that he was the leader of their little group. That was until they were on the receiving end of the Vod leader's interrogation techniques. Despite Adenn's name sake - which in Basic meant "merciless" - it was actually Aran that was the most uncompassionate one for those outside of his friends and his squad. Being the Chancellor's go-to squad leader had completely changed him in good and bad ways. He was far more stressed, tense and under great pressure: and it had hardened him into a warrior that Sergeant Kal would be proud of. But it had also taken away his human nature, the side of him that could empathise with the situation of others. Hostages, as far as he was concerned, should be shot on instant. So was doing things that were absolutely necessary to get the job done; unless it meant a risk towards his brothers. He was the guard of the clones: and only Cuyan's rationalising could make him see the wider picture.

As for the inspiration behind Adenn's, his colours were also very sentimental, but more to himself than to the views of the squad as a whole. His shoulder pauldrons, gloves and under-suit bodyglove were all a sandy gold in colour. Not only did this reflect a connection to the _beskar'gam_ of their sergeant - _Kal'buir_ - but it was also a link to his lady friend, Raikia Rayth. She had dark blonde hair, which was not only echoed in the colour choice for his armour, but also in the fact that he had dyed the fringe part of his hair to match the colour of hers. The rest of his plates were still grey, but they were dashed with silver speckles that made him look like a walking starscape. He didn't look like this on purpose, however. During a mission to destroy a make-shift droid facility, he had become trapped on one of the conveyer belts and doused in silver paint. No amount of paint stripper could remove it all, so he had ended up leaving it be.

Their armour all had personal connotations of some kind, except Orar's anyway. For some reason, he had neglected to join his brother's in the riot of armour colours that represented what they stood for. So his was just a smoky grey - nothing more and nothing less. It was as if he had found nothing strong to believe in, so he was staying neutral. Well, it was either that or the fact that he had found something: the Republic. By not graphitizing his rig, it was like he was respecting their cause.

Hold on, _their_ cause? That thought almost stopped Cuyan in his tracks. Didn't he consider himself to be a member of the Republic? Not really, he presumed. He couldn't vote, he didn't have citizenship and he didn't pay taxes. As far as the Republic was concerned, _Cuyan_ didn't exist, just a faceless clone that was a part of the collective lot from the Grand Army. Sure, they acted on behalf of the Senate; but despite how hard they tried to make people see that they were included, it would never work. The GAR was a separate organism: like a second head on the political body. It had its own rules, functions and processes. It even operated on its own accord - well, if you were _Kal'buir_ anyway. He almost preferred it that way. He couldn't imagine himself having to mix with so many people that had opposing views to your own. He found it difficult enough to bond with people that weren't his brothers as he was now. Only two people had managed it so far, and that was because they were romances of two of his brothers: Republic Intelligence Officer Raikia Rayth and Jedi Padawan Lena Arano.

His thoughts were cut short as his brothers stopped sharply before two, large doors that must have led into the Chancellor's office. He halted as quickly as he could, but he did knock against Adenn's back with reasonable force. To give his brother credit, he didn't end up falling over and took the brunt of the hit, but he did make a comment over the com-link that they shared thereafter,

"Whoa, wake up, vod'ika. Got your head in the clouds again?"

Cuyan didn't reply as he took note of Aran having some stern words with the receptionist that was positioned near to the doors. He then took note of the small queue of people that were sitting in chairs just off to his right, clearly waiting to be admitted in to see the leader of the Republic. He was fairly shocked when he realised that he recognised a few of them. A regal looking gentleman with black hair cut to just above collar level and a neatly trimmed beard was sat at the front of the line, deeply immersed in a document of some kind. His dark coloured eyes looked up at them for a moment as they approached, before his shoulders slumped and he went back to his reading. This man was Senator Bail Organa of Alderaan, and he didn't look very happy.

Sat next to him and dressed in a pure white cloak that had a high collar and framed the plain, grey dress that she was wearing was the _very_ young senator from Chandrila. Her name was Mon Mothma, and she too was in opposition to the war and all of the violence that was going on. Her short, copper coloured hair was not out of place in the slightest possible way, and her blue eyes reflected more curiosity than annoyance at their arrival. He expected that she had seen clones dozens and dozens of times before - but it was never the same as seeing a Republic Commando up close. After all, they were shiney boys, and their rig looked so much more impressive. A couple of moments later, she looked away and whispered something to Organa who just nodded in return. Somehow, Cuyan knew that it hadn't been a nasty comment about them, and it pleased him.

Finally, he panned his HUD around to face the final politician that was waiting with the other two. By far, she was the one that caught his attention the most: not only because she was strikingly attractive but due to the fact that she held herself differently from the others. Despite an excellent and regal posture that kept her sitting upright stiffly in her chair, she looked like she was hiding something. She wore a dark lavender overcoat that didn't accentuate the curves that he knew she had. Her long, brown hair was swept back into a braid that dangled down her right shoulder, and it seemed to shimmer as the small, ornamental beads within it caught the lights overhead.

Senator Padmé Amidala of Naboo must have known that he was looking - well, more like staring at her - for she looked up straight into his visor. Her deep brown eyes burrowed straight into him and made him stand that little bit straighter and more proudly. It was like he was locked onto her gaze with his own eyes; not with an artificial barrier in the way. A small, seemingly amused smile dropped onto her face before she spoke, but her voice was gentle and strong all in one instance. He couldn't understand why, but she almost sounded a little...sad,

"Trooper."

Cuyan was about to reply, but much to Organa's disgust, the receptionist spoke to Aran, "The Chancellor is ready to see you now, Sergeant."

He barely registered putting one foot in front of the other and following his brothers into the long hall that led up to the Chancellor's office for real.

"If it helps, Cuy'ika, I thought she was cute too," Adenn's voice chided into his ear, teasing him in thorough amusement. Apparently the moment had not been as private as he had first thought. "You two could make a _lovely_ couple."

"_Di'kut_!" Cuyan hissed as a blush rose to his cheeks despite of the fact that he knew no one else could hear the conversation. Well, no one except Aran and Orar. "I wasn't...she..." He realised that he was rambling and so feebly reversed the conversation back onto his brother, "...besides, you have a _dala_!"

Adenn took the rebuke for what it was: a childish and flustered comeback. He just laughed and replied with a patronising comment that he knew would agitate his brother even more, "No harm with window shopping, vod'ika. Now please, try to concentrate on what our _illustrious_ Alor has to say and not what is beneath her...ummm...robe."

The 'link fizzled out before Cuyan could make a more sustainable argument. His embarrassment quickly gave way to awe as they stepped fully into the Chancellor's office. The walls, floor and even the surfaces of the furniture were all a luscious, scarlet in colour. The lighting was only dialled up enough so that one could see comfortably, but it was still low enough that the late afternoon sun caused shadows from the obscure statuary in the room to creep across the floor. They all ended at the foot of a large desk that was towards the back of the spacious room. But the main focal point of the chamber was a large, crystal clear viewport that offered the viewer a panoramic view of Coruscant. It was utterly breathtaking.

"Ah, troopers, you have finally arrived," Supreme Chancellor Palpatine greeted them, rising from his aforementioned desk and smiled at them as he spread his arms out to his sides in a welcoming gesture. It was his political face, the one that he used when addressing the citizens of the Republic. As polite as it may have been, it insulted Cuyan deeply. The leader of the Republic must have picked up on this, for he dropped the façade and indicated four chairs that were placed before his desk. "Please, sit. I trust that you had a pleasant journey?"

"Very much so, Sir," Aran replied, slipping into the role of the squad speaker. It was just a habit for him to do so now. He reluctantly sat down in one of the chairs with Orar to his left, leaving Adenn and Cuyan to take the outer chairs. They would normally have remained standing, but when it was the Chancellor that made the request, they obeyed.

Palpatine sat back down with them, then steepled his fingertips together and leaned forwards towards them. The folds of his magenta robes almost swallowed them up, however he paid it no mind. Ever the professional. "I won't take up any more of your time with pointless formalities; I will just come straight to the point. I wish to apologise to you. For three, long years I have asked for your services many times, and you have failed to disappoint me. What _I_ have failed to do, however, is thank you for what you have done."

The whole squad was shocked by the sudden humility in the Chancellor's voice, and Aran clearly vocalised their feelings with his own tone of voice, "That's...that's quite alright, Sir."

This time, the Republic leader smiled with genuine warmth. His words sounded almost, affectionate, as he continued, "That may well be, but please do not think that your efforts have gone unnoticed." His words dropped down to a near whisper at that point, as if they pained him when he spoke them, "Even those of your lost colleague, RC-1548..."

A silence hung in the air as his words trailed off, and Cuyan could have sworn that he heard Adenn's teeth grinding together as he his temper began to rise. He was unable to stop a fist from clenching up though as it laid tensed up upon the arm rest of his chair. They all knew that he had a distinct dislike for the Chancellor, and they were even more aware of the pain that he was still feeling after the loss of Besbe. Well, the latter was something that they all felt, even one and a half years later. The Chancellor's "pain" at Bes'ika's loss must have been eating him alive, and all her could do was sit there and listen to someone that hadn't known their brother at all pretend that he gave a damn about his death. The joy that Cuyan had once felt quickly changed to anger, anger for Besbe and concern for Adenn.

A strange expression crossed Palpatine's face - was that satisfaction that he had seen? - but he wasn't entirely sure what it was. The aging politician sat back and took on a less intense position as he smiled at them all once again. "And so, I am granting you with one week's leave. Effective immediately."

Leave? That caught Cuyan's attention once again. After his brain had mulled over the words for a few moments, a frown suddenly crept across his face. A week? Just a week? After three years with nothing but mission after mission after mission, that was all that they were entitled to? He instantly felt even angrier. What if they had been given a measly week earlier on in the war? Would Bes'ika still be around to enjoy it with them?

He was going to protest this point, but Aran cut in before him, "Much obliged, Sir. Where would you have us go for this...week?"

Alright, Cuyan felt a little better. Aran's hesitation had shown him that he also felt the same away about such a little time away from action. He must have accepted what the Chancellor had offered, because arguing might have lost them what little vacation they had been given. He wasn't happy, but it was the best that he knew they were going to get out of the Chancellor.

"I have arranged some officer's quarters for you back at the Coruscant barracks, up on the General's level." Oh, so they were getting some posh accommodation, at least. I wish for you to be close by, in case I need to call you for assistance."

A sharp beep interrupted their conversation and the Chancellor frowned down at his desk. He pressed a button next to a small projector plate in front of him. "Yes?"

"The loyalist committee is wishing to know if you are ready for them, my Lord," The receptionist from earlier asked sheepishly.

Palpatine's face turned sour - something uncharacteristic from the man that people normally saw on HNE - and then answered, "Send them in." He rose from his chair and turned his attention back to the clones, before offering them his hand to shake. "I will arrange for some transport to take you straight to the barracks."

Aran, Adenn and Cuyan shook his hand in turn, but the Vod leader was the one that answered for them, "That's very nice of you, Sir. Thank you."

The Supreme Chancellor took Orar's hand last and shook it, but he kept a hold of it as he looked straight into the sniper's visor and muttered, "Not a problem. It is a small price to pay for such unshakeable loyalty."

Orar seemed to be transfixed for a moment, but eventually he stepped back and followed the rest of them out of the room. They briskly left the office and walked past the loyalist committee as they did so, but Senator Amidala paid them no mind this time. Cuyan was a little crushed by this, it seemed like they were all back to business.

As they made their way back to the transport, he felt a feeling of dread begin to nibble at his stomach. Why had the Chancellor acted so strangely as they were leaving? Why couldn't he take his mind off of that Senator?

Something strange was going on, not just with the war but within him as well. Something very strange, indeed.


	4. Chapter 4: The Truth is Told

Chapter 4: The Truth Is Told

Aran ducked back down behind the couch that he had been using as cover, rubbing futilely at the end of his nose. The training bolt had sprayed into the seat's material, and unfortunately not all of the sparks had been absorbed, so they had reached out and tickled the edge of his face with their prickly fingers. He could still hear Cuyan's laughter ringing out from across the room at the involuntary yelp he had emitted, but now the droid had rounded on his brother. He was safe, for the moment at least.

He dropped down onto his hands and knees and fumbled around in the dark, trying to retrieve the metal cylinder that he had accidentally dropped. They had been given leave only an hour ago and yet they had no idea what to do with it. Well, at least he and Cuyan did. Adenn had leapt at the chance to run off and see Raikia, and Orar had bumped into an old friend of his from the 501st squadron. Some of them were currently on Coruscant, but as to why they were here, no one was letting on. That had left him and the resident det man with nothing to do, so they had borrowed a training droid from a weapons store and located the two training lightsabers that a friend of theirs had lent them.

Yes, fighting against a droid where the objective was to bat away the bolts as they came hurtling towards you was a rather strange exercise for a Republic Commando. But what people didn't know was that it was a brilliant way for them to practice their evasive skills and focus their skills of concentration. Seeing as they couldn't just blast the droid as they normally would have done, they were forced to dive, roll and duck away from enemy fire. Without the Force to guide them, it took _a lot_ of skill to be able to deflect a bolt, let alone reflect it back towards the person that it had come from, like some Jedi were able to do.

So far, the pair of them had been able to do neither of these things. However, Cuyan seemed to be having better luck at dodging the little stingers. How he was able to do this way beyond Aran's comprehension, but he was starting to get a little envious of it when he couldn't do the same thing.

"Are you ok, Sir?" Cuyan's voice called out from the gloom around them. To further add to the difficulty of the exercise, they had turned off the lights in the main room of the officer's quarters that Chancellor Palpatine had gotten for them. "Did it get you?"

Aran pushed himself back into a crouch, feeling his leg muscles protest against the motion, but he ignored it. _Sir_? For some reason, that title had begun to hold more and more contempt in his mind whenever he was called it. He couldn't remember the last time when someone had referred to him by his real name: Aran. "Sir" and even "Sarge" were acceptable to him in formal contexts, but his brothers had become accustomed to calling him that in their private moments. He wasn't sure why it grated so badly upon his nerves - maybe because he felt that his brothers saw him as a leader and not as a vod like them - but he found himself very nearly bringing Cuyan up on it.

In truth, there had been one person who had called him Aran - but look what that had led to...

"Y...yes, I'm alright." His words clogged up in his throat as a wave of pain and guilt washed over him. He cursed mentally and prayed that Cuyan hadn't picked up on his hesitation. Please, oh please, he couldn't let this secret out!

Unfortunately, Cuyan was the most perceptive of them all. A moment passed and then the lights in the room burst to life. Aran had to blink his eyes rapidly to get them to adjust to the sudden illumination as he rose to his feet and dropped the training lightsaber onto the sofa in front of him.

As expected, Cuyan was standing there watching him, bathed in sweat to toe and still holding the laser weapon in his hand. The expression on his face was one of a confused scowl, his dark eyes searching across the Vod leader as if he was looking for a small indication of what had cause his brother's unease.

Another heartbeat passed before the det man must have realised that the emerald blade was still aglow, and he shut it off. When he finally spoke, his voice was full of fire from a man that had had enough of everything and was on the verge of break down, "Sir, I can't take this any more! What's going on with you?"

"Nothing, Cuy'ika, honestly." Aran forced himself to meet his brother's accusing stare. "Honestly. The shot has just mussed up my brain. Let's continue."

As he leaned over the back of the sofa to retrieve his lightsaber hilt that he had abandoned, an EMP grenade bounced off of the cushion that it was resting on and sent the weapon skittering away from his reach. He instinctively shrunk back as he expected the det to go off, but it didn't.

Cuyan now rounded the couch and stood right in front of him, his eyes still burning with an annoyed flame, but his expression had softened into something that resembled concern. He reached out and gripped the Vod leader's shoulders, and it took every inch of Aran's will power not to flinch away. "Sir, you can't keep doing this. What's gone wrong? First Orar starts acting all aggressive, then Adenn makes secrets with Raikia..." The Vod leader winced involuntarily at those words, and Cuyan trailed off.

The squad's det man suddenly clamped down harder on his shoulders. "He's told you something, hasn't he? What's he planning to do?"

Aran shrugged his brother's grip off of him and walked away to flop down on the sofa. He raised an arm to cover up his eyes, as if he was hiding his gaze away from something. "No, he hasn't. As far as I know, they're doing great."

Cuyan followed him, pausing to drag a small coffee table forward as he then sat down on its edge, still watching him. "Then what's bothering you about them? You got all jumpy when I mentioned Raikia. You got a problem with her or something?"

Aran's eyes widened as he peeked out from under his arm up at his brother. Would it hurt if he knew his real, dark secret? The one that was really bothering him? The one that would tear apart the squad in unimaginable ways? "I swear that you're Force sensitive, Cuy'ika."

Cuyan gave him a pleasant smile, but he could tell that it was forced. "If only. That training droid would be cut in half by now if I was." He leaned over to pick up a discarded piece of cloth to dry himself off with. "So come on, tell me what she's done or I'll have to use a Force mind trick on you to -"

"I slept with her," Aran blurted out suddenly, unable to let his brother continue as a sharp pressure pressed down on his chest. He couldn't keep it bottled up any longer, not when he had the chance to rid himself of some of the burden of this awful truth.

The demolitions man froze, turning his attention back to his confessing brother out of the corner of his eye. His face was a picture of so many kinds of emotions: anger, betrayal, shock and a little relief. He paused for a long moment, and then when he finally did speak; his voice was a mere whisper as he realised the consequences of knowing such a secret, "Me'ven? Are you serious?"

Me'ven, a Mandalorian exclamatory phrase that translated to "what". It was hardly surprising that Cuyan had reverted to their mother tongue, as if he was afraid that some other people might over-hear of his brother's treachery. But the Vod leader, on the other hand, was past the point of caring. "Yes, ner vod. I'm serious."

Cuyan opened his mouth a few times to speak, before closing it finally as he tried to compose words into a plausible sentence. This was like the ultimate act of betrayal, a personal treason. How could anyone fool around with the love of a relative's life? "Well, how many times? Once? Twice?" His gaze narrowed into an even more accusing stare. "Three? Four times? Did you have a full blown affair?"

"Twice!" Aran exclaimed, and then lowered the tone of his voice to something that he presumed was calm. "Just twice!"

"_Just twice_?!" Cuyan practically yelled, and then he too followed his brother's example and hissed, "You aruetti! How could you be so dini'la, you hu -"

The demo commando stopped himself from saying the final word, eyes wide as he realised how much his anger had consumed him. He'd nearly called the Vod leader the worst possible name that a Mandalorian could be called: a hut'tuun. The literal translation into Basic sounded meagre - a coward - but when it was used against a person that had originated from a culture bred on warriors, it was very serious indeed. What stung worse than the insult, however, was the look of hatred that passed across the clone's face as he had spoken those words.

It all became too much for Aran. He squeezed his eyes shut as guilty tears welled up behind them and pinched the bridge of his nose to aid the effort. It didn't stop a few tears leaking out onto his cheeks though. He heard shuffling as Cuyan moved and sat down on the sofa with him, and then felt a strong hand grip his spare one in an unshakeable hold. That made him feel all the more worse as he squeezed his brother's comforting hand to try and suppress a whimper of pain from escaping. How could he be so sympathetic after what he had done?

Opening his eyes, the Vod leader locked onto the teary-eyed gaze of the resident det man. His brother looked the most apologetic that he ever had done, and that despite of everything he loved no matter what. It wasn't forgiveness, but it gave him the strength to explain everything,

"The first time it happened was when we were undercover with those terror cells, a year and a half ago," He paused, waiting for Cuyan to acknowledge that he remembered. "I couldn't cope with Besbe's death, so while you went out on a recce with Ad'ika, we went out to drown our sorrows. One minute we were reminiscing, and the next we were kissing. I don't know who instigated it, but neither of us stopped. And...you can guess what happened from there."

"And were you drunk the second time?" Cuyan prompted him carefully, trying to keep his tone of voice neutral. It barely worked.

"No," Aran said simply, and had to break eye contact. He couldn't bear to see the judgemental expression that must have passed across his brother's face.

The det man had also looked away as he tried to contain the sense of anger that was threatening to consume him. "Ar'ika..."

"I didn't mean to, Cuyan, I swear!" The Vod leader looked back at his brother again, his eyes showing a look that pleaded him not to think of him differently. The one thing that mattered the most to Aran - alongside their safety - was how his brothers saw him. "Things just happened and now I can't get her out of my head. It physically hurts whenever Ad'ika mentions her. I've been living like this for over a year, and I can't take it any longer."

Kal'buir's lessons hadn't taught Cuyan how to deal with a situation like this. He didn't know what he could say to make things go back to the way they used to be. He was torn: torn between two brothers he loved dearly. Unable to find words, he simply pulled Aran up to a sitting position and dropped a heavy arm around his shoulders as his brother buried his face into his hands and let the tears flow freely.


End file.
